Chapter 1
Selena's POV
"Tell me why I agreed to this event,"
I muttered under my breath, clutching a glittering champagne flute I hadn't touched in all my twenty five years.
The chandeliers above me probably cost more than a year of sales at The Velvet Mug, my parents' little coffee shop in Williamsburg.
Here, everything smells like money. Gold accents, polished marble, expensive perfume and fresh roses.
The Ashford Legacy Benefit wasn't just charity; it was a stage for influence, alliances, and deals that shaped the city.
I look like a woman who belonged here.
But I don't feel like one.
I don't belong here. Not among New York's golden elite with their icy diamonds and thousand-dollar laughs.
And yet, here I was. The most favored associate in the firm, hand-picked by my boss, Vivian Monroe, C.E.O of Preston and Moore, to accompany her to this extravagant charity gala at the Ashford Grand Hotel, the biggest event in Manhattan. The kind of invitation no junior employee could refuse.
"The sharpest in the room," she'd called me earlier. But right now, I feel more like prey.
Vivian leaned close, voice low and sharp, before disappearing into the crowd. "Don't mess up tonight, Kane. I trust you… now go and have fun." Her eyes pierced me, and I swallowed hard.
"Yup, that was a threat, definitely," I said quietly.
The red silk dress which was my mother's choice hugged my hourglass figure a bit too much, and the neckline was lower than what I was comfortable with.
"You look like the kind of woman powerful men write about," she'd said.
Sweet, but tonight those powerful men were staring a little too long.
One in particular… he was older, late fifties, with slicked-back hair and eyes that devoured me. His twisting smirk made my stomach churn. Every step toward me felt hungry, like a predator circling prey.
Nope. Not tonight. Not for any promotion in the world.
I slipped out, weaving through tables until I found a quieter hallway.
I needed air.
I walked out the side hallway toward the empty glass corridor overlooking the city. Manhattan shimmered below.
I sighed.Finally, a moment to breathe.
I let myself take in the view. Just a few more minutes, and then I can get the hell out of here.
"There you are," a voice murmured behind me.
I turned and nearly collided with the figure.
"I told you not to disappear," he said lowly, a voice sharp with tension.
His face... I didn't fully see it. Just glimpses. A strong jawline. High cheekbones. His dark hair was thick and pushed back.
Before I could explain, he had the wrong person. His hand cupped my jaw and he kissed me.
My world stilled. No hesitation. No ask. No warning.
His lips were warm. Certain. Soft in a way that shattered my logic.
And worse…
I didn't pull away. His mouth captured mine in a way that burned through the confusion I felt in the moment.
His scent was in my head. His hands slid around my waist. And for a second too long, I let myself feel.
And then, horrifyingly, I kissed him back.
Then with a whisper of breath. A flash of heat.
He deepened the kiss.
And that was when it shattered — my brain finally caught up.
I jerked back, eyes wide, chest rising fast.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Confusion flickered in his eyes. He blinked, stunned.
"Wait, why—aren't you… I thought you were." He stuttered.
Then. FLASH. FLASH.
Cameras. Paparazzi.
I pulled back, breathless.
"Yes, I'm not whoever the hell you thought I was," I snapped, slapping him hard across his face.
I walked away… but not far enough to stop thinking about his mouth on mine.
Jayden's POV
I'd been shaking hands for what felt like hours.
"So glad you could make it."
"Hope you're enjoying the event."
Fake smiles. Rehearsed lines. The kind of polished charm my parents expected from me in public.
I wasn't here because I wanted to be.
I was here because my parents made it happen.
Correction: plotted it. Every guest, every handshake, every photo… all part of their bigger plan.
The centerpiece of that plan? Cynthia Martins.
Daughter of Maxwell Martins, the finance tycoon who owned half of Midtown and had enough political leverage to bend senators.
A merger between the Ashfords and Martins would've been historic, media heaven, and my parents' obsession.
Tonight, Cynthia wore a bright yellow gown that caught the chandeliers and threw them back like sunlight. Her lipstick was a sharp, calculated red. A tiny mole sat above her lip.
Cynthia didn't just want to be seen; she demanded it. Every tilt of her head, every flick of her wrist said, look at me.
To my parents, she was flawless. To me, she was exhausting. Too polished. Too eager to own me.
I'd been avoiding her all night, ducking behind champagne trays and drifting away from conversations before she could pin me down.
That's when I saw her.
The beauty in a red dress.
She didn't command the room the way Cynthia did. She didn't have to.
She stood there in a red dress that fit like temptation, curls slightly wild, heels clicking as she moved like she was trying to escape.
One glance at her, and the rest of the gala faded into background noise.
I found myself following her into the quiet hallway, like something in me had already decided.
She turned , startled, and that was it. Her scent intoxicated me. My brain didn't have time to catch up.
I closed the space, slid a hand to her jaw, and kissed her.
Reckless. Stupid. Completely out of character.
But the second my lips touched hers…
It felt right.
The way she looked at me like she couldn't believe it, and the way she kissed me back like it mattered.
It undid me.
And when she stopped, I decided to play it off as a mistake,not because it was but because I couldn't find the right words to explain it.
Then came the flashes. Paparazzi.
This was my parents' doing. I'd bet on it,perfect timing. Something for the media to talk about.
I don't know if I did what I did to ruin their little game, chase Cynthia away for good, or because I already wanted more.
But I grabbed her, pulled her in, and kissed her like I meant it this time, and I made sure they all saw it too.